


herpes is forever

by maurascalla



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Post-Season/Series 01 Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-02 08:40:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5241902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maurascalla/pseuds/maurascalla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“With who?” Stiles tries to sound excited for him, but mostly he’s just concerned. His dad hasn’t really dated since his mom died. He’s been to dinner with a couple of different ladies, a lawyer he met at work and one of Scott’s mom’s nurse friends, but he never got dressed up for those. Dad shifts from foot to foot and honest-to-god flushes, his cheeks burning a furious red.</i>
</p>
<p>or, Stiles's dad has a new boyfriend and Stiles won't stop until he figures out who it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	herpes is forever

It starts a couple months after the show down at the old Hale house. Stiles is home after school, doing homework and thinking about what to do for dinner, when his dad stands in the doorway to his room and opens his mouth. 

Nothing comes out, and he looks frustrated. 

Stiles watches, confused and at a loss for words himself, until his dad shrugs and walks away. 

“Dad?” Stiles calls after him, leaning back in his desk chair as if that will somehow allow him to track his father’s movements despite the wall between them. “Did you want something?” 

Stiles listens intently to the silence that acts as his answer until his dad pops his head back into Stiles’s room with a frown. He opens his mouth, starts to speak, and then changes his mind with the shake of his head. He disappears again. 

Stiles shoots out of his chair and makes to follow after his dad. “Are you-” He bumps right into him, still hovering outside Stiles’s room. “-Okay?” 

“Did you borrow my blue shirt?” Dad asks, dodging the question. Stiles shakes his head vehemently, eyebrows draw together in confusion. 

“Dad, what’s up?” He demands. His father tries to walk away again, but Stiles jumps in front of him, blocking up the hallway with his long limbs and concerned expression. 

“I’m going out tonight,” Dad says, like it’s a surprise to him too. Stiles’s dad doesn’t go out. He does going to work and he does going home, but he doesn’t do ‘going out.’ 

When he takes a second though to really look his father, he notices how his pants are wrinkle free and look nice with his tucked in black button-up shirt. He’s wearing cologne. He looks good and Stiles knows, instinctively, that this is a date. 

“With who?” Stiles tries to sound excited for him, but mostly he’s just concerned. His dad hasn’t really dated since his mom died. He’s been to dinner with a couple of different ladies, a lawyer he met at work and one of Scott’s mom’s nurse friends, but he never got dressed up for those. Dad shifts from foot to foot and honest-to-god flushes, his cheeks burning a furious red. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he replies. Stiles thinks his father must have been dropped on his head recently if he thinks that wouldn’t just make him more curious. Already, he’s figuring out how to follow his dad and spy on his evening out. Dad seems to sense the direction his thoughts have taken and frowns at him. “Stay here. All night. I’ll know if you don’t.” 

“Dad-” Stiles starts to whine, but he stops when he sees how nervous his dad is, hands shoved into the pockets of his pressed jeans. “Have fun,” he says instead. 

Dad smiles weakly and murmurs his thanks. Stiles moves out of his way and lets his father through the hallway. 

“I’m serious, Stiles,” his dad says after reminding him of his bedtime and letting him know that he has his cell on in case of an emergency. He’s shrugging on his jacket, the good one without all the patches, and giving Stiles a stern look. “Stay here.” 

“Geesh! Okay!” Stiles exclaims, tossing his hands up exasperatedly. 

Dad is out the door and halfway to his car when Stiles races to the front window and slams against it in his rush to peek through the curtains. If he’s lucky, his father’s date will be picking him up. He isn’t though, and he watches his dad get into his own car and drive away. 

Grumbling, Stiles pulls his phone out of his pocket and pokes at it until he’s dialing Scott’s number. 

“Hey,” he says before Scott can say anything at all. “Is your mom home?”

“What?” Scott says. “Why?”

“Because my dad is all dressed up and on his way to some fancy date, and he won’t tell me who he’s going out with, and this is me really hoping it’s your mom because dude! Brothers?” Stiles shouts into his phone. 

“Hold on, let me check.” Stiles hears the rustle of Scott getting up, then the sound of him talking to his mom. He hears her answer him back. “Dude, I don’t think so.” Scott says to Stiles, and he seems just as crestfallen as Stiles feels. “She’s on her way to work.” 

“Who else does my dad even know?” Stiles says, and it didn’t sound as mean in his head as it does out loud. He winces. 

“Dude, I don’t know. He’s your dad.”

“Ugh, whatever,” Stiles groans, giving up. “You wanna do the chem homework together?” 

“Yeah, kind of,” Scott replies. “See you in five?” 

They hang up, and Stiles runs upstairs to turn on Skype. Together, he and Scott trudge through their schoolwork. Now that Peter’s gone and Derek’s more or less leaving them alone, Scott’s been working to bring his grades back up. He isn’t stupid, he just needs more time than Stiles does to get through the readings, and he didn’t exactly have it in spades when he was howling at the moon and running for his life. 

It’s past Stiles’s bedtime when they hang up the call, and his dad still isn’t home. He sends him a goodnight text, “ _herpes is forever,_ ” before crawling into bed and falling asleep. 

**

Apparently, his date went really well, because his dad goes out with her four more times in the next two weeks. It’s killing Stiles not to know who it is, but he’s trying to respect his father’s privacy. He hates it. He isn’t any good at it. 

“Oh my God, can’t you just tell me already?” He whines, pushing vegetables around with a spatula. He’s making dinner and his dad is flipping through some current case files at the kitchen table. 

“Tell you what, son?” Dad asks innocently. He doesn’t look up from his work, but Stiles can still see the smirk on his face. Jerk. 

“Who is this mystery woman who’s stolen your heart! Are you going to tell me before the wedding or wait until after?” Stiles bites out, and it was meant to be a joke, but it doesn’t read that way at all. 

Dad pauses, sets down his paperwork, and looks up. “He,” he says, and looks like he might throw up. “I’m dating a man.”

“Oh,” Stiles says. “Okay, but who is he?”

“Oh my God, really?” Dad crosses his arms over his chest and glares at his son. “That’s all you have to say? I’m baring my soul here, kid.”

Stiles complains, “Okay like, I get that was a big moment for you, congrats on coming out, by the way, but I’m dying over here.” 

Dad snorts and shakes his head. “In due time,” he says. 

Stiles makes a noise like a dying man and almost burns his hand on the stove in his dramatics. “Tell me and I’ll let you have a cheeseburger,” he tempts. 

“I’m good,” Dad laughs. Stiles balks, mouth hanging open like an unattractive fish. It’s serious then, because there’s nothing his dad wouldn’t do for a cheeseburger. This guy is important, important to his father in a way Stiles hasn’t seen since his mom died. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes, and magnanimously, his father pretends not to hear him. 

**

There's a sickening moment, when Stiles is running through the hallways to his English class, when he overhears Harris telling Scott's Algebra teacher that he has a new paramour. He says it like that, a ‘new paramour,’ and Stiles thinks he's ridiculously pretentious until it dawns on him: it might be his dad. 

Stiles gags and stops mid-run to try and quell the uneasiness growing in his stomach. 

“Bleh,” he groans. 

“Don't you have somewhere to be, Stilinski?” Harris asks, eyes narrowing. He's so unpleasant, as a person, that Stiles wants to use up his meager savings to buy him a one way ticket anywhere in the world to keep him away from his dad. 

Uncharacteristically, Stiles just nods and walks away. He walks down the hall, away from his detention-happy chemistry teacher, and keeps going until he's securely and safely holed up in his English classroom. 

While the teacher's back was turned, he pulls out his cell and texts his father a series of hurt looking emojis and question marks along with, “ _omg pls tell its not harris._ ” 

His reply comes ten anxious and unnerving minutes later, “ _im offended._ ”

Stiles sighs in relief, slouching down in his seat. His whole body uncurling as the tension drains out. From the desk next to his, Allison quirks an eyebrow at him, but he waves her concerns away with a smile.

His father isn't dating the worst human being alive. He can breathe easy again. 

**

After the Harris debacle, Stiles makes a list of every man his father knows. A list of every man that he knows that his father knows, anyway. There’s a whole world of people out there Stiles has never met, and he’d consider them if he could, but he has rule out the people he knows before he can rule out the people he doesn’t. 

It’s a pretty short list, mostly just guys at the station. 

With a red pen, Stiles goes through and crosses out all the married men, or dudes in relationships. At least, the ones he knows about. Not for the first time, he curses his limited scope of knowledge. Facebook stalking helps with that a little, but some of their profiles are tied up tighter than Fort Knox, and he can’t get anything from them. 

When he’s done though, his list is much, much shorter.

**

“Is it Deaton?” Stiles asks his dad. They’re sitting in the squad car, eating dinner and listening to the scanner. Technically, Stiles doesn’t think he’s allowed to be in here, but apparently being a single parent means the Sheriff gets to break the rules sometimes. Not that Stiles is complaining, because Scott has to hang out at the hospital to spend time with his mom and just- no. Hospitals are the worst. 

“Is what Deaton?” Dad says, distracted. He wipes at some ketchup that fell on his uniform tie with a napkin. 

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Your boyfriend? Is Deaton your boyfriend?” 

There’s an uncomfortable silence that stretches on long enough for a smug smile to tug at the corners of his mouth. He’s about the pump his fist in triumph when his dad starts laughing. It’s a full and rolling kind of laugh. 

“Oh, kid,” the sheriff huffs out between chuckles, dabbing at his eyes with his ketchup napkin. “No, it isn’t Alan. 

“Why is this so funny to you?” Stiles demands. After very careful deliberation, Stiles has narrowed it down to two men, and Deaton is Stiles’s favorite of the two. He’s polite, handsome, kind, and yeah, maybe a little cryptic, but he already knows about werewolves, so Stiles doesn’t have to worry about his dad getting hurt. He was really hoping it was Deaton. 

“I’m not laughing at you, Stiles,” his dad apologizes. “I’m laughing at me.”

“Because that was so informative,” Stiles sasses back, pushing his dinner wrappers off his lap and onto the floor. 

Dad sighs a little and turns to look at Stiles. “In high school,” he says, “Alan was my Lydia Martin.”

Oh.

“He was smart and funny and something about him wasn’t quite what it seemed, and I thought I was in love with him,” his father sighs again. “Then I met your mother and I figured out what love really was.” 

“I’m in love with Lydia,” Stiles says, almost defensively. 

His dad smiles, and it isn’t unkind, just a little sad. “I know you do, son.” 

**

The last name on his list is Coach’s. ‘Finstock’ written in Stiles’s flowing chicken scratch. Hoping to avoid a repeat of the Deaton fiasco anytime soon, and decides to attack from a different angle. 

He waits until the next lacrosse game, waits until the action starts, before sliding closer to Finstock on the bench. The man is watching the game with bulging eyes and a truly impressive frown. “Keep in the net, Mahealani! Keep in the net!” he cries, waving his clipboard around. 

“Are you dating my dad?” Stiles asks him, point blank and apropos of nothing. 

“What was that?” Finstock looks at him, but only for a second before turning back to the game. “What do you want? I don’t have all day!”

“Are you dating my dad,” Stiles repeats, louder this time. 

Finstock chokes on thin air. “You think if I was you’d be sitting on this bench?” he asks. “Not that your father isn’t a looker, but I’ve got standards for my team!” 

And that’s the end of that. 

**

Stiles can’t let it go.

He can never let anything go, it’s one of his defining characteristics, and Stiles figures that if his father minded, he would have broken him of that particular personality quirk a long time ago instead of continually encouraging his curiosity. His dad brought this on himself. 

At least, that’s what Stiles tells himself as he’s driving through the middle of town when he’s supposed to be at school pretending to be interested in Finstock’s Econ class. It’s just a little stakeout, and he’ll be back before Harris ever notices that he’s missing. 

The night before, his dad had let it slip that his mystery man was bringing him lunch at the station more days than not, and that he wouldn’t let Stiles’s dad pay him back for it. He was trying to sound cross about it, but Stiles could see the corners of his mouth twitch and the blush on his neck. It was super weird, like how watching Scott fall in love with Allison was sort of weird. Not weird, just different. Different than what he’s used to. 

Stiles pulls his Jeep into the parking lot of a drugstore across the street from the Sheriff’s Station, and parks behind some trees, hoping they’ll hide his unmistakable car from passers by. He has to twist his neck at an unusual angle to see the station’s front door, but it’s doable. 

Three minutes into what is typically his father’s lunch break, an alarmingly familiar black car glides past Stiles’s hiding place and turns into the station’s parking lot. 

Stiles absolutely does not panic when Derek Hale climbs out of his ridiculous Camaro carrying a brown paper bag and a drink tray with what Stiles really hopes is decaf coffee. His father isn’t allowed to have caffeine, and for some reason, that’s the detail he decides to focus on. It keeps his breathing even. He isn’t entirely sure what Derek’s range of hearing is, but he’s pretty sure ‘just across the road’ is included in his purview. 

Holding his breath, Stiles waits until Derek, dressed in one of those stupidly too-tight henleys and reflective sunglasses that Stiles really wants to hate but can’t because they look incredibly cool, is safely inside before pulling his phone out and texting Scott a series of exclamation points. 

He gets a bunch of question marks in return, but he doesn’t bother to respond. He won’t take his eyes off the front door until he’s certain it isn’t Derek. His father’s actual boyfriend could show up at any moment, and he doesn’t want to miss it. Derek’s probably there for the cute new deputy his dad likes so much. Stiles like her too, and honestly he thinks she can do a lot better than Derek, but better her than his dad. 

Thirty minutes go by, and no one else comes by. No one so much as breathes at the building. Stiles is starting to worry. Maybe the guy doesn’t have time to stop in today? Maybe he’s working through his own lunch? Maybe-

The station’s door open and Derek walks out, sipping from an iced coffee through a straw. He’s smiling, and it startles Stiles. He’s never seen Derek smile before. 

Still willfully ignoring the evidence before him, telling himself that it’s a coincidence and not at all how it looks, Stiles almost misses his father rushing out of the building, calling after Derek. Somehow, almost impossibly, Derek’s smile widens when he turns to meet him. 

Stiles’s dad holds out what looks like Derek’s sunglasses, their touch lingering when he hands them over. Derek looks down at the ground before glancing back up, a small grin on his lips. He’s bashful. Derek Hale is bashful over Stiles’s father. 

They don’t kiss or hug or declare their love for each other in broad daylight, but Stiles can’t deny it anymore. 

His dad is dating Derek Hale. 

**

Stiles can’t focus in Chemistry. He wishes Harris hadn’t moved Scott across the room because he really needs someone to talk to about this. He needs to hit something, or scream. Maybe cry. His father is dating Derek Hale. He hates Derek so much, even still. Sure, he has some sympathy for the guy, but he almost got Stiles and Scott killed a bunch of times and robbed Scott of a normal life. He doesn’t have a lot of positive feelings about the guy, and his dad is falling for him? Unacceptable. 

Carefully, pretending to scribble down Harris’s notes dutifully, Stiles writes _it’s derek_ on a scrap of paper he hopes isn’t important. He waits until the teacher’s back is turned before poking Danny with his highlighter. The other boy tries to ignore him, but Stiles is in even less of a mood to be ignored than usual, and keeps poking until Danny spins around, nostrils flaring. He’s obviously pissed, but Stiles pretends not to notice. With a quick peek over at Harris to make sure his back is still turned, he hands Danny the note, folded in thirds, and gestures wildly to Scott. 

Danny rolls his eyes, but complies. It’s hardly the weirdest thing Stiles has ever asked him to do. 

Stiles watches the note’s progression down to the front of the room and forgets to breathe when it finally reaches Scott. It feels it takes forever for his friend to open it, longer for him to actually read it. Belatedly, he hopes his handwriting was legible enough. 

“Oh my God,” Scott exclaims loudly, actually falling out of his chair in surprise. 

“Mr. McCall, back in your seat unless you want detention this evening,” Harris says, apathetic. He doesn’t turn away from whatever he’s outlining on the board, and Stiles sends out a silent thanks to the universe, because his note is just sitting on the top of Scott’s school books. 

Scott scrambles up and apologizes. He shoots Stiles an alarmed look, communicating with his eyebrows alone that he is very upset and outraged. 

‘Me too, buddy,’ Stiles’s eyebrows say in return. ‘Me too.’ 

As soon as the bell rings, Scott is on him, literally jumping into his space and whispering in a way that isn’t quiet at all, “Dude, what the Hell? Are you sure?” 

Stiles pushes him back, and says, “We have to figure out what his game is this time.”

“Game?” Scott asks. They file out of Harris’s classroom behind Danny and Jackson, who are deep in conversation about Lydia’s last party. One that, unsurprisingly, Scott and Stiles had not been invited to. Lydia doesn’t really know what’s going on, but she isn’t speaking to them or Allison until someone talks, and they’ve all resolutely decided to keep their mouths shut. What she doesn’t know can’t hurt her. 

“Yeah, what’s his deal? What’s his angle? Why is he suddenly Lana del Reying it up with my dad?” Stiles hisses. 

“Maybe he just like, likes him?” Scott wonders, ever the romantic. 

“He’s using him for something, I know it. Some power grab or, or! I don’t know, but I don’t like it!” Stiles is nearly shouting, and Scott pats him on the back consolingly. 

“Dude, I don’t like it either, but we can’t just assume Derek’s out to get your dad. Would it make you feel better if we talked to him?” Scott phrases it like a question, but there’s a certainty in his tone that lets Stiles know they’ll be skipping out on lacrosse after school to track down Beacon Hills’s former Most Wanted Man. 

**

“Hey, Lolita!” Stiles yells, calling out for Derek. He and Scott are outside the Hale house, surprised to see it surrounded by piles of wood and construction workers in hardhats. They all turn and stare at them, but Stiles refused to be cowed. 

“Are you talking to me?” A slight woman in an orange work vest crosses her arms and glares at Stiles. Her name tag reads ‘Lolita.’ He flails and groans, rubbing a hand over his face exasperatedly

“No! Not- Derek! Where’s Derek Hale?” Stiles demands. 

As if by magic, Derek appears on the other side of Scott wearing one of his annoyed frowns. “What do you want, Stiles?” 

“Why are you screwing around with my dad?” Stiles says venomously, moving into Derek’s personal space. Scott tries to pull him back, but Stiles tosses off his hand, eager for the confrontation. 

Stiles realizes the error of his phrasing when Derek smirks and says, “He’s really hot.”

Behind them, one of the construction workers snorts. 

Stiles takes a deep breath and punches Derek Hale square in the jaw. “Don’t talk about him like that!” he shouts, jumping up and down, clutching his very probably broken hand and cursing up a storm. 

“Stiles!” Scott reaches out to him, but Stiles rebukes him again. He’s cradling his hand to his chest, pointedly not crying even though it hurts so bad he can barely see straight. 

“Are you done?” Derek asks, and he doesn’t even have the good grace to bruise. Stiles hates him. 

“Have you met me?” Stiles snaps back, but he is. He’s played out. 

Derek leans in and looks at Scott, eyes flashing red, before staring Stiles down like it’s a contest. “Listen, because I’ll only say this once,” he says. “Your father is a grown man, and despite whatever you may think, so am I. You are a child, and that’s how this plays out. Adults make the decisions.” 

“But-” Stiles starts. 

“No.” 

“What about-?” Scott asks, gesturing vaguely, more aware of their audience than Stiles or Derek have been. 

Derek rolls his eyes so hard Stiles thinks they might just fall right out of his head. “An adult relationship. Between adults. Making decisions. Like adults,” he says slowly, like he thinks maybe Stiles and Scott don’t speak English. 

“He deserves to know!” Stiles screeches. 

“Oh my God! Take him home, Scott,” Derek says. 

“Okay! Okay!” Scott grabs Stiles by his collar and hauls him back to the Jeep. “He’s kind of right though.”

“Scott,” Derek grinds his teeth, obviously at the end of his rope. 

“Whatever, dude,” Scott shrugs, shoving Stiles into the passenger's side and taking his keys. Stiles knows he can’t exactly drive like this, with his hand all busted, but he hates it when other people drive his car. He hates it when other people are driving period. 

They don’t talk until the trees start thinning, and there are more people than dandelions out Stiles’s window. 

“That went well.”

“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, Scott. It’s like a watching an attack puppy. It’s cute, but it isn’t every effective.” 

**

When Stiles’s dad gets home from work that day, a few hours later than usual, Stiles is in the middle of cutting up peppers for the frozen pizza in the oven. He hears him come in, but he doesn’t turn around. He hopes Derek didn’t call his dad and tell him about his melt down. His hand is swollen and red, but he feels calmer. He hates Derek and he hates that he’s dating his dad, but he knows now that maybe punching an Alpha werewolf with his puny human fist wasn’t the brightest thing he’s ever done. 

“Stiles,” his dad says, and his voice broken. 

“Wha-?” Stiles drops his knife and turns so fast he gives himself whiplash. His father is standing there, in the doorway to the kitchen, his uniform shirt hanging open in the way it does when Dad is off duty. His eyes are red rimmed, like maybe he’s been crying. “Dad?”

They stare at each other for a heartbeat, and Stiles has an uncomfortable itching between his eyes, like something horrible is about to happen. 

“Dad,” he prompts again, and it’s like he opened a floodgate. His father rushes forward and envelops him in a bone crushing hug. 

“Derek told me everything,” his father says into his shoulder, his face buried in Stiles’s neck. “You idiot.”

Stiles barks out a watery laugh. 

“Kid,” Dad pulls back, but keeps his hands on his shoulders, fingers digging in. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Werewolves? Would you have believed me?” 

Stiles’s dad shakes his head, because no. He would not have. Not unless someone showed him, and Scott just wasn’t ready. 

It’s quiet, just the two of them breathing near each other, holding on and being the same page, fully, for the first time in months. Stiles feels so much better, lighter, than he has in a while. 

Behind him, the oven dings, alerting him that their pizza is almost done. 

“I love you,” his father says. “No more secrets.” 

Stiles nods and smiles. “Sure thing, daddy-o.” 

**

Three days later Stiles is thundering down the stairs, hurriedly shoving his arms through his shirt sleeves and tossing his homework in his backpack. He almost misses the last step, but he catches himself before he faceplants on the floor. 

“Bye, Dad!” He calls out, slamming the front door closed behind him. He’s halfway to his car when he notices that something feels off. 

More sedately, Stiles backtracks and sticks his head back into his house. It sounds barren. 

“Dad?” 

“Go to school, Stiles,” his dad says from the living room. He’s piled onto the couch, covered in blankets. There’s a bottle of wine at his elbow. It’s like, eight am on a Thursday morning. 

“Um, no? What is this? Don’t you have to work?” Stiles tries not to sound as worried as he feels. 

Dad sighs and he sounds tired. “I’m still processing that werewolves are real, that my ex-boyfriend and my son’s best friend are mythical creatures. I’m taking a personal day.” 

“Ex-boyfriend?” Stiles squeaks. 

“Oh my God, go to school, kid!” His father dodges the question effectively, using his Dad voice. With a frown, Stiles makes his way back through the house and out to his car. On his way to school, he blatantly breaks the law and calls Scott’s mom while he’s driving. He asks her to take care of his dad while he’s in school. 

**

“Derek wants to be my Alpha,” Scott says, tossing his books onto their table in the cafeteria. He drops down into his seat across from Stiles dramatically. 

“Hello, Scott! I’m good, how are you?” 

Scott has the decency to look sheepish before continuing, “He came over last night while my mom was at work and like, laid out this whole five year plan and everything. It was- I don’t know dude, I’m thinking about it.”

Stiles blinks, and puts down his Capri Sun. He folds his hands in his lap and straightens his spine. “I’m sorry, Scott. I don’t think I heard you. Maybe you should repeat that for me, since I thought I just heard you say you want to be part of Derek’s pack. But that can’t be right though, right?” 

“It’d just be us for a while-”

“Because that’s so much better!”

“Look, Stiles, listen!” Scott pleads, waving his hands in Stiles’s face. “He’s not going to turn anyone who doesn’t ask for it, and we’re going to like, adopt in Omegas, and I don’t know, dude. It sounds legit. I don’t like, want to be a part of a pack, but it’ll be okay until college, you know?” 

“Why are you suddenly so pro-Derek?” Stiles asks, folding his arms over his chest. 

Scott shrugs. “Your dad likes him.”

Stiles makes a rude noise in the back of his throat, ignoring Scott. “Allison! She can’t be cool with this! It’s Derek!”

“Did someone say my name?” Allison says, coming out of nowhere and appearing at Stiles’s side. He jumps and almost falls out of his chair. She smiles at him, dimpling in a way that makes Scott’s face break out in its own dimpled brilliance. She slides in next to Scott with her lunch tray.

“You can’t be cool with this?” Stiles demands, gesturing to Scott wildly. 

“What, the Derek thing?” Allison shrugs, seeming so much like Scott for a moment that Stiles wonders if they’re absorbing each other’s personalities. “It seems like a good idea. My dad won’t let me see Scott if he doesn’t have better control of his shifting, and my mom says it’d be a good idea to have an inside man in the pack.” 

“And I’m you inside man?” Scott asks, bumping their shoulders together, grinning like an idiot. 

“Yeah you are,” Allison flirts back.

“Wow. Gross,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes. “Why are you guys so cool about this?” 

Scott, arm wrapped around his girlfriend, says, “Everything is okay right now. I’m going to enjoy it.” 

**

Stiles repeats that to himself for a while, _Everything is okay right now._

He tells himself that when he’s in the shower, when he’s at lacrosse practice, and when he’s cramming for a math test. _Everything is okay right now._ Because it kind of is. The Alpha -Peter- is dead, Chris Argent looks a lot less like he wants to murder them in their sleep, and Scott’s GPA is back on the rise. _Everything is okay right now._

Or it was, until Stiles wandered downstairs for breakfast one blistery, rainy Sunday morning to find Derek Hale sitting at his kitchen table, next to his father, wearing nothing but the pajama bottoms he’d bought Dad last year for Christmas. There’s a spoon hanging out of his mouth. 

“Um, good morning?” he says around his mouth full of cereal. 

Stiles looks at his dad, takes in the hopeful look on his face, and sighs. He wants to stomp out of the kitchen and go hide in his room. He doesn’t like Derek, he doesn’t trust Derek, and he hates that this is the guy his father is gazing at with hearts in his eyes. Stiles needs coffee. 

He’s at the coffee maker, mashing all the buttons until it starts up, when his dad clears his throat. “Derek and I were thinking about going camping next weekend,” he says, sounding excited. Stiles turns around, leans against the counter, and takes in the sight before him. 

His father looks happy. There’s a smile on his face when he looks at Derek that makes Stiles’s chest ache. He misses his mom. 

“We were kind of hoping you’d want to come with us?” His dad asks, and he seems nervous. Stiles wants to say no, but his dad already looks resigned, like he expects Stiles to decline. Even Derek, spoon no longer dangling out of his mouth, looks a little like he’s expecting to get hit with a rolled up newspaper. 

“Sure,” Stiles says, surprising everyone in the room, including himself. The grin that lights up his father’s face is infectious, and even Derek cracks a smile. 

“It’ll be a lot of fun,” Dad says, and Derek nods in agreement. 

“I bought hot dog skewers,” Derek says, like that’s somehow an incentive. He looks really proud of himself though, so Stiles only rolls his eyes a little. 

“So you guys like,” Stiles gestures between them vaguely, “Got back together?”

Dad nods, and Stiles is saved from having to listen to them gush about each other as the coffee maker buzzes. He pours himself a cup and doesn’t bother adding cream or sugar before bolting out of the room. 

“Got lots of homework, bye!” He shouts, ascending the stairs. 

**

“Dude,” Scott laughs at him. They’re Skyping, doing their Econ homework and playing video games. It’s later in the day, and Derek’s gone home. Stiles watched his car drive off from his bedroom window. He also saw his dad kiss Derek goodbye, and it was very awkward. He tries not to think about it, but he’s a little scandalized.

He also tries not to think about how much he doesn’t like Derek, how this relationship might affect his father’s next election for Sheriff, and how much he really, really hates camping. He isn’t very successful, and thus has spent most of his day worrying. 

“So Derek is like, your step dad now,” Scott says, because he’s an asshole. 

Stiles makes a noise like a dying man because, yeah. Kind of.


End file.
